


Peonies?

by sunflowerseed



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24598768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerseed/pseuds/sunflowerseed
Summary: Eames can’t help imagining Arthur in the doorway of a townhome, a look of surprise on his face and the slightest bit of disappointment tucked into his cheek. And then he can’t help smiling.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Peonies?

**Author's Note:**

> pls someone tell me if this makes any sense

There are pink flower petals on the beige carpet. The clear vase holds about ten of them, most slowly unfolding but some spread open to expose their yellow tendrils. There’s a small square of card stock discarded onto the table beside them. Eames almost reaches out to it but the bathroom door opens and he straightens on the spot.

__Arthur looks at him and the shadows under his eyes are dark. He glances at the flowers briefly before returning his gaze to Eames as if he’d never looked away in the first place. He straightens his shirt and clears his throat. ‘Ready?’ He says but Eames was waiting for him._ _

* * *

__‘Peonies?’ Eames says as nonchalant as he can manage._ _

__He’s holding himself up on his forearm to watch the expression on Arthur’s face. They’ve been practically dormant since returning from a late dinner in Dalston, fumbling into the shower with suggestive looks and back out with the soles of their feet and both of their moods softened. Neither of them says anything about the morning when they fall into bed to flip through adverts and moan about anything that comes to mind. Arthur will have to board a train to Paris by himself and Eames will do the same in the evening. An almost flippant precaution. But right now, through a mix of gin and a hot shower Arthur is divulging a bit more than Eames’ accustom to._ _

__‘Yeah, we were together 2 and a half years. I met him when he was a teaching assistant on my senior thesis.’ Arthur is starring at the ceiling, his shoulder pressed into Eames at an almost perfect right angle. ‘I remember I told him on one of our first dates. White peonies. They’re my favourite flower and on my birthday he showed up on my doorstep with pink peonies but I mean... it’s close enough.’_ _

__Eames can’t help imagining Arthur in the doorway of a townhome, a look of surprise on his face and the slightest bit of disappointment tucked into his cheek. And then he can’t help smiling. They both know it’s minuscule but Eames also knows that for Arthur the little details mean more than anything. To ignore such a small detail is so very contrary to the Arthur Eames knows. But Eames’ Arthur isn’t a boy fresh out of college with modest ambitions. He’s the man with an alias for every mood, each of which correlates to the same very specific preference. A preference which he won’t let anyone forget._ _

__‘Right?’ Arthur says looking expectantly at Eames._ _

__He doesn’t look like his Arthur then either. His expression too soft, like he’s genuinely curious whether Eames thinks it’s fair to be concerned over such a small indiscretion. Eames almost tells him he doesn’t know how anyone could forget anything about him at all._ _

__‘ _Well-_ ’ Eames watches Arthur glance thoughtfully over his face and he can feel him fiddling with the front of his shirt. ‘-it’s the thought that counts isn’t it?’_ _

__Arthur pinches the fabric between his fingers before pressing his knuckles against Eames’ chest with a playful smile. ‘You wouldn’t forget would you?’_ _

__The air conditioning is humming softly in the distance and the newsloop is repeating itself but Eames only hears his own blood rushing in his ears. ‘Surely not.’_ _

* * *

__They catch a cab downtown where Arthur spends the better half of an hour lecturing Eames about something he’s yet to do. But then something funny happens, Arthur succumbs to Eames’ silence and they sit there, the both of them thinking about flowers and words on paper in silence._ _

__Eventually, when the waitress refills Arthur’s glass he glances at her. ‘Thank you.’ He says looking over at Eames who’s intent on his braised carrots. He takes a long drink. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you up to my room.’_ _

__Eames looks at him then. ‘What?’_ _

__‘I wasn’t thinking.’ Arthur places his napkin on his plate. ‘I shouldn’t have let you up. This job has been going really well and now I’ve- I started something.’_ _

__Eames turns his fork in his hand and looks across the room. He wishes they could’ve ended the night in silence. He would’ve been just fine with that. ’Arthur, It’s nothing. Really.’_ _

__‘Eames,-’ Arthur leans into the table. ‘-please. You know I would never purposely rub it in your face like that. I didn’t-‘_ _

__Eames half raises his hand and Arthur stops. Arthur's silence is a rarity in their relationship, working or otherwise. But Eames knows it is possible when he’s flustered like this._ _

* * *

__A long silence stretches between them and Eames can’t stand to watch Arthur bow his head into his hands but he does anyway. There are footsteps in the stairwell and Eames looks hesitantly at the door when they stop on their floor but continue._ _

__‘Okay.’ Arthur drags his sleeve across his face. ‘Let me go first.’_ _

__And Eames knows he’s got no place to argue since the predicament they’re in is a result of his sloppiness. He’d done a fine job of leading a tail all the way from Mauritius to Durban. It had been an old tail of Arthur’s. A tail which Arthur had managed to shake with a strict diligence Eames has never possessed._ _

__Neither of them has to say that they won’t be seeing each other for a while now, considering. So Arthur collects his documents and touches Eames faintly on the cheek. ‘Watch me.’ He points toward the shuttered window. ‘Okay? Take a cab to the station. Stay away from any place in Congo.’ Eames opens his mouth but Arthur’s too quick. ‘Don’t tell me where.’_ _

* * *

__‘Arthur, I said it’s fine.’_ _

__But Eames can tell it’s not by the wrinkle between Arthur’s brow the rest of the night. And the silence is no more comfortable for Arthur after the fact but he can’t help bending to Eames’ will when this is his fault. So they walk home like strangers, just two men headed in the same direction and Eames is sure not to look back when he exits the elevator. He takes his phone from the confines of his suitcase and calls Yusuf._ _

* * *

__‘Eames?’_ _

__He tries to sit up in the bean bag chair he’s sunken into but he slips back into the indent his body has made. He feels almost faint now, his lungs filled with flavoured smoke. He could float away any minute probably._ _

__‘Eames?’_ _

__Eames locks eyes with Yusuf who’s sitting across from him with a shisha pipe hanging ineloquently from his lip. ‘Yes, sorry. Are you alright? Where are you?’_ _

__Arthur gives it a moment of thought but he must figure the trouble’s passed them at this point. ‘I’m home.’ He says and Eames knows that means New York. ‘I spent a month in a safe house in the middle of nowhere… But, listen. What happened back there can’t happen again.’_ _

__‘I know. I can be more careful-‘_ _

__‘It doesn’t matter how careful we are. I spoke to Dom and people are more aware of us than I thought. For the most part, it’s almost irrelevant but in some instances…’_ _

__Eames can feel the blinding happiness he’d felt hearing Arthur’s voice winding down to receive this blow. ‘Right.’_ _

__‘I’m sorry.’ Arthur says and he does sound sorry but it doesn’t help anything. ‘We can resume our regular work in a couple months probably. It wouldn’t be in our best interest to stop working together anyway. I’m taking a break… we should both just take some time apart.’_ _

__It’s all a bit of beating around the bush but Eames isn’t unfamiliar with the way Arthur speaks when he’s trying to get to a conclusion he didn’t hypothesize._ _

__‘Eames?’_ _

__‘I understand.’_ _

__‘Okay…’ Yusuf is raising a curious eyebrow and Eames can’t bring himself to shake his head. ‘I’m really sorry. The way things are... I can’t-’_ _

__Eames thinks there is a bit of overlap in terms of people who’d enjoy seeing their heads on stakes but he does understand that a known relationship in their field warrants a much greater risk. ‘Right.’_ _

__Arthur sighs away from the receiver. ‘I don’t need any more leverage on my hands then I already have.’_ _

__And part of Eames feels relieved because he doesn’t have to worry about how this will end anymore._ _

__‘That Arthur then?’ Yusuf says, a plume of smoke escaping the side of his mouth when Eames rings off with a much too chipper farewell._ _

* * *

__Eames considers ignoring Arthur's texts. He thought he'd squashed the whole conversation at dinner for the time being but he should have known that Arthur was not likely to ignore a problem, even for one night. As a consolation, he considers trying to put it off until after the job but he knows there's no escaping it when they'll be spending the next 3 days in a small storefront, their desks pressed together in the corner. It's inevitable that he'll have to hear what Arthur has to say eventually. So he may as well hear it as soon as possible so he can begin recovering from it. Eames inhales as deeply as he can manage on his cigarette and comes in from the balcony to let him in._ _

__He's still wearing his clothes from the day, his suit jacket left in his room. ‘Can we talk?’ He asks sitting at the table in the corner._ _

__He stands at the edge of the bed in hopes his remaining upright stops Arthur from staying too long._ _

__‘Eames?’_ _

__Eames feels the urge to sigh. ‘If that’s what you need.’_ _

__Arthur presses the heel of his hand to his temple. ‘I know it seems like- I don't know what you’re thinking… but it’s not like that.’_ _

__There isn’t a world where Eames feels comforted by this and he can’t imagine Arthur thinks so either. Because it’s quite clear to him that it is some version of what he’s thinking. That Arthur’s been back home living unbridled by any affections Eames thought he might have. ‘So you haven’t seen him since Durban.’_ _

__Arthur’s other hand raises to his cheek and Eames can practically taste the stress seeping from his pores._ _

__‘He didn’t send you those flowers.’_ _

__Arthur flattens his palms on either side of his face, the tips of his fingers press into his eyelids._ _

__‘You haven’t fucked him.’_ _

__They both fall silent and Eames waits for a response that never comes._ _

__‘It’s late.’_ _

__But Arthur doesn’t move from his seat and Eames decides he _does_ need another night before they discuss. He moves toward him and reaches out to usher him toward the door by the arm but Arthur intercepts and holds his hand loosely between them. He looks up at him. ’I’m sorry.’ He says again and Eames tries to pull his hand away but Arthur doubles down. ‘Please, Eames. I'm sorry.’_ _

__‘Why are you here?’_ _

__And Arthur blinks at him. ‘To apologize.’_ _

__‘Well, you’ve done it. A number of times now. And I’ve told you, it’s fine. Alright?’ He pulls Arthur up by their intertwined hands and shakes him off. ‘Now-’_ _

__There’s the sound of shoes scuffling in the hall and they both look. For a moment Eames wonders if he's lead someone to them like last time but he knows that can't be because he'd taken extra precautions this time around. Eames looks back at Arthur and he’s starring at the front of Eames’ shirt. He presses his knuckles against Eames’ sternum through it. ‘Okay.’ He says glancing at Eames. ‘I’ll go.’_ _

__But he doesn’t get much further than a step out of reach before Eames is pulling him back in against his best judgement. And Arthur yields to him more easily than Eames would have expected, his hand braced easily against Eames’ shoulder and his mouth pliant. He slips into his lap on the bed and when Eames pushes him away Arthur diverts his attention to the buttons on his shirt. His mused hair brushes Eames’ cheeks but he reaches out to still Arthur’s hands third button down._ _

__‘What?’ Arthur says._ _

__‘How many times?’_ _

__Arthur looks momentarily perplexed but he quickly adopts an exasperated expression, sitting back against Eames’ thighs. ‘Eames-‘_ _

__‘I just need-‘_ _

__‘How many times what?’ He pulls his hands away. ‘How many times have I seen him? How many times have I slept with him? What does that entail?’ He brushes his thumb across the small scar on Eames’ cheek. ‘Hands? Mouths?’_ _

__Eames can feel his heart beating in his throat._ _

__Arthur pulls him in closer. ’Do you really want-?’_ _

__Eames doesn’t let him finish and they don’t bother with the buttons left on Arthur’s shirt, shoving it over his head along with his undershirt. He can put it out of his mind when Arthur clutches at him like he is now, his thin fingers pulling at the soft hair behind Eames’ ear and twisting the worn cotton of his shirt in his palm._ _

__‘You can-‘ Arthur sighs when Eames hesitates._ _

__And it’s been so long the adrenaline makes Eames’ hands shake. Arthur laughs but he takes a sharp breath when Eames manages to press two steady fingers inside of him. ‘Are you-?’ Eames mumbles watching Arthur’s face and he hates that he takes respite in knowing he hasn’t done _this _in a while at least.___ _

___Arthur blinks the grimace from his face, his heel pressing into Eames' shoulder. ’It’s okay.’_ _ _

___He doesn’t linger on his discomfort too much, unhitching his knee from Eames’ shoulder and pulling him back up by his ears. ‘I’m good.’_ _ _

___‘Are you?’ Eames remarks thoughtfully but Arthur is too busy fussing with the condom packet._ _ _

___Eames feels like a boy with Arthur. Almost like he did at 14, in the marina’s shed with the boat hand from his granddad’s schooner, both their swimming costumes around their ankles. Like that but something different, like he did at 18 winning a giant glassy lump of jadeite, rife with silvered veins and worth more than he could even imagine, at an illegal gambling house in Myanmar._ _ _

___Arthur tightens his hold on his neck and Eames hunkers down onto his elbows so he can feel his sharp staccato breaths against his ear. He can’t resist folding him into a nostalgic kiss and Arthur’s fingertips soften against Eames’ shoulder. ‘That face.’ Arthur says around a cheeky smile, the strain evident in his voice. ‘Stop making it.’_ _ _

___Eames knows then that he’s really gone for._ _ _

___Arthur goes quiet with Eames’ dead weight overtop of him. He still watches him quietly when he extricates himself to retrieve a towel and when he returns to wipe off Arthur’s stomach. ‘That face.’ Eames mimics collapsing back into bed. ‘Stop making it.’_ _ _

___Arthur kicks the duvet out from under him, totally unbothered. ‘Seriously-‘ He rolls into Eames’ side. ‘-what were you thinking about? Your grandma? Am I that good you need to-’_ _ _

___Eames bites down on his smile. ‘You're foul.’_ _ _

___‘Well…’ He presses his cheek against Eames’ bicep. ‘-thanks anyway.’_ _ _

___‘Mm.’ Eames wants to look at him but he hesitates._ _ _

___When he does look Arthur is blinking sleepily at him._ _ _

___‘What?’_ _ _

___‘I really am sorry.’_ _ _

___Eames groans._ _ _

___‘No, seriously. Just listen, because you’re not going to hear this very often in your lifetime but I-‘ Eames feels Arthur’s hand light on his elbow. ‘I regret some of the decisions I’ve made… the past few months. I really regret it right now… and I regretted it when I saw you standing in front of those stupid flowers and when I first saw you in the airport wearing that awful knit tank top.’_ _ _

___Eames makes a disgruntled sound. ‘Well, that’s a bit uncalled for.’_ _ _

___‘I’ve made some mistakes and-‘ Arthur bears down on his shoulder to look at him. ‘-I’ll never see him again if that’s what you want. I don’t care, he was just a distraction anyway. I just- I got scared-’ He touches his palm to Eames' chest. ‘-by that whole shit show in Durban. And I just thought, you know, you’d be better off.’ Arthur collapses on top of him with an annoyed sound. ‘I’m sorry, okay?’ He stays there for a long time, the heel of Eames’ palm in the divot of his spine._ _ _

* * *

___Arthur feels something coming on at the very beginning of the job. A small tickle somewhere in the back of his throat takes half a day to turn into a sore throat and then another 24 hours to turn into a dry cough and a mild fever. He stocks up on generic cough medicine and fever suppressants from a pharmacy in Hongdae and drinks soju mixed with red pepper powder upon their Korean architect’s instruction._ _ _

___The night before the assignment he’s exhausted, practically falling asleep at his station when he decides it’s time to wrap up for the night. He feels like a ton of bricks fumbling in and out of a cab. And the journey from the lobby to his room feels like a fortnight. He strips out of his suit and hunkers into bed before he recognizes the blinking light on the phone. He almost ignores it but he won’t be able to rest easy if he does. It’s a message about a package delivered to the front desk and he’s too intrigued not to clamber back down stairs in his pyjamas._ _ _

___The reception disappears into the back and she reemerges holding a mass of brown paper wrapped in an extravagant pink bow and suddenly Arthur isn’t very tired at all. She smiles demurely at him as she hands the bouquet over and rushes back to bring him a vase._ _ _

___He returns to his room before pulling open the wrapping to find a piece of card stock tucked between soft white petals.___

_____ _

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_I had a sneaking suspicion that you might be needing these (or maybe it was the very long whingy call I received earlier this week)._

_P.S. Are you very much attached to this cat you call Penelope? She pissed on another pair of my slippers this morning._

_P.P.S. Miss you._

_P.P.P.S That face. Stop making it._


End file.
